In Your Arms
by Klyntaliah
Summary: Bucky just needs to trust again. Wanda wants to help. Winter Witch (Bucky/Wanda) oneshot. Trigger warning: brief, non-descriptive mention of torture. Light on the H/C.


**Written for a friend of mine.**

 **This was my first time writing a pairing other than Clintasha, so it was different and a bit tricky, but tons of fun! :)**

* * *

It's raining the first time they kiss. Gentle tears are dripping from the sky, and silver mist rolls around the border of the landscape, swirling like her scarlet magic. The scene is stunning, but her eyes are fixed on the man in front of her.

"You need to learn to trust again," she says, a few stray wisps playing across her face. "And I know how hard that can be, believe me. But you have to try."

He sighs and drops his head forward, dark locks of hair falling onto his forehead. "I'm not sure that's possible anymore."

"It is possible," she says firmly.

He lifts his head, and her breath catches when his dark, haunted eyes lock onto hers. When she'd first seen that face after Sokovia, all the memories had come flooding back, and she'd panicked. To her, he was the face of HYRDA, their emotionless assassin who only lived to spill blood. His face meant pain, fear, despair, death.

But then she had realized that he wasn't that beast anymore. He was no longer an asset – he was a friend.

And maybe even more than that.

"I know it's hard to believe in people now," Wanda says. "You think they want to use you. You think they only want you for your abilities. But you have to believe that they see you as a friend. You have to trust them."

He laughs humorlessly; runs his fingers through his damp hair. "You think I don't want to?" he says. "HYRDA took that all away from me. They made me into a tool. They stripped me of everything that made me human and left behind a machine. How could anyone see me as a person anymore? How could they think of me as a friend?" He sighs and drops his head again. "I want to trust you. I do. I just don't know how."

Her heart clenches with emotions; pain, sympathy, and something else she can't identify. And she finds herself stepping forward, carefully resting a hand at the back of his neck. He looks down at her in surprise, but he doesn't move away.

"Then let me show you," she says softly.

The distance between them is closing, when it happens.

Something hard closes over her right hip. A cold pillar of steel finds the strip of bare skin between her tank top and jeans.

 _His hand._

And then memories are screaming inside her mind: The silver hand, leaving bruises scattered across her body. The gleam of metal as the beast towered over her brother, torturing him, as HYDRA had ordered him to do. The hideous claw closing around an innocent man's neck, squeezing, dark blood oozing between the steel fingers…

Wanda cries out and recoils, heart hammering frantically against her ribcage. Bucky looks at her in shock, concern swirling in his shadowy eyes.

"Wanda? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she gasps. She presses her palms into her temples, trying to block out the memories.

"Wanda," he says gently; and then there it is again, the metal claw, reaching hungrily towards her. Automatically she jerks back, staring wide-eyed at it.

His hands float down to his sides, and she can see confusion and hurt in his face as he tries to understand her behavior. Then he follows her gaze to his left arm, and realization washes over his features.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, unable to meet his eyes. "It's just done so much evil."

There is a silence, broken only by the whisper of the rain.

"I know," he says quietly.

She bites the insides of her cheeks and toes the soggy earth.

"But your power has, too," Bucky says. "And now, you've learned to use it for good. Just like me."

She dares to look into his face again, and sees new resolve there.

He steps closer, and a stray breeze whisks his rich, earthy scent towards her. "You say I need to trust again," he says softly. "But if _you_ don't trust _me_ , how can _I_ trust _you_?"

Wanda lowers her head, ashamed.

Bucky sighs.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs.

Her gaze snaps to his face, pulse rate spiking. His eyes are calm and serious and soothing.

"Before I can let you trust me, I need to show you that I can trust myself. Close your eyes."

And this time, she does.

At first, there is nothing. Then something cold and hard brushes the back of her wrist.

 _His hand._

She flinches and starts to pull away; but then she hears his gentle _shhhh,_ and she makes herself stay still.

Slowly, cautiously, his fingers travel up her arm. His touch is feather-light, like her skin is made of porcelain, and it leaves goosebumps in its wake. He traces the contours of her limb like she is a masterpiece and he is the artist.

He makes it past her shoulder strap and onto her collarbone before panic starts to climb again. His dangerous hand is so close to her exposed neck, and she whimpers, turning her head away.

 _"Trust me,"_ she hears him whisper; and she swallows her fear as his hand glides carefully up her neck. His powerful thumb hovers briefly over her throat, then his hand slides up to cup the side of her face.

And the metal itself may be cold, but his touch is so _warm._ She leans into his hand and sighs as his thumb rubs little circles over her temple.

"Wanda?"

She opens her eyes. And he is so close that she can name each emotion in his eyes, and count every line and scar on his face.

"Do you trust me?"

He's frozen her in place with his intense gaze. She feels exposed, vulnerable, as if his mysterious eyes are piercing her heart, and can somehow look right into her very essence. It's addicting and frightening, yet somehow, comforting.

She offers him a small smile before replying.

"I trust you."

It's raining the first time they kiss. And it's warm and gentle and thrilling and terrifying and so _real._ And as the rain falls lightly around them, Wanda knows that she never has to be afraid again.

The metal hand in her hair is deadly, but she's never felt more safe.

It's surrounding her like a metal cage, but she's never felt more free.

It's been used to cause death, but she's never felt more alive.


End file.
